Critical Expressivism- Theory and Practice in the Composition Classroom, 2014a

Boyd
STORY OF SELF
My motivations for writing this piece come from a strong belief: The individual
matters! By this, I do not mean to suggest that I am resorting to a “naïve
acceptance of the notion of a rational, coherent, and unified self” (Freedman,
2001, p. 206); nor am I suggesting that the individual is “insular, confined or
private” (Danielewicz, 2008, p. 440). I am suggesting we need to examine the
work that ideas like “self” and “individual” play in people’s lives. Many people
find it important to have a “ground” to stand on—a sort of foundation that they
can rely on in this world, and that ground can come from many places. Yes, it’s
important to realize that the “ground” changes over time and that we learned
that “ground” through social experiences. Nevertheless, a sense of identity—i.e.
being an individual—does important work in people’s lives. Susan Hekman argues
that “selves must necessarily experience themselves as coherent identities,
historically located and contingent, but enduring through time” (2010, p. 299).
It is the both/and that is appealing to me, that I believe in, and that attracts me
to critical expressivism: stablity and contingency.
Just as I passionately argue that the individual matters, I just as passionately
insist that pedagogy matters—that composition is a valid and valuable field and
that critical expressivism is an important part of teaching. I am disturbed by
the divisiveness I sense every time I go to meetings where those who identify
themselves loudly as “rhetoricians” work actively to distance themselves from
“teaching.” Many moons ago, Stephen North said that the field was suffering
because the Researchers didn’t value the Practitioners, the Philosophers didn’t
value the Researchers, and so on (1987). All too often I see this same struggles
occurring today. My lived experiences in departments that too often feel that
rhetoric and theory is privileged over teaching and composition (although I realize
that teaching is not the only thing that scholars of composition study). I
have lived through many meetings where I alternately felt like sinking in my
seat, somehow feeling ashamed to value teaching, or standing up on the table
shouting “Teaching matters!” I have lived—and sadly continue to live—a sense
of alienation as “the” composition person in an area where Rhetoric is privileged.
My first passion and interest in higher education is teaching and writing
about teaching. That’s why it was so important to me to contribute to this collection.
I believe in students. I believe in studying learning. I believe it’s important
to study teaching. I believe that the divisiveness in our departments and our
own areas is corrosive. I like how Karen Surman Paley puts it: “I am not asking
naively, ‘Why can’t we all just get along?’ but rather I am saying, ‘Let us look
more carefully before we write each other off.’” (2001, p. 197). That is precisely
what North urged us to do in 1987. I believe books like this can help move us
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